A Pataki Thanksgiving
by corneroffandom
Summary: Helga's Thanksgiving crashes and burns early. Luckily, she has some help.


A.N: I kinda wanted to get this out before Thanksgiving/A Jungle Movie, but it didn't pan out because I was drowning towards the end of NaNoWriMo. Hope you all enjoy it anyway!

Helga's Thursday starts early. Much too early for her liking. She blinks against the sun pouring in through her blinds and fumbles for her phone, desperate to quiet its ringing nonstop next to her bed. "Criminey, what is it? Do you know what hour it is?" She's immediately assaulted by Olga's broken sobs on the other end, that breathless kind of weeping that bleeds into her voice as she cries shrilly. Something about her flight being delayed, and how Olga may not be there until later in the afternoon and _oh BABYYYYYYY SIIIIISTER!_ Helga holds the phone away for a few minutes, then gingerly puts it to her ear a few moments later. "What do you want me to do about it? Doi."

"Baby sister, I know you can do it," Olga sniffs, and Helga is seized by a sudden panic as she realizes she's missed something significant while safeguarding her ears. "I gave Mummy a list of what groceries we'll need, everything should be in the kitchen. You can make the meal, baby sister!"

"What!?" Helga exclaims, pulling the phone back to stare at it like it's the one who came up with this insane idea. "Olga, there is no way-"

"You'll be great, baby sister! Mummy and Daddy will help you if you ask! Ooh, I think they're coming to me with an update. I'll call you back later, baby sister!"

Helga blankly stares at the screen of her phone as it flashes _call ended_ at her, moaning loudly as she collapses back against her bedding. "No friggin way...!"

Eventually pulling herself up, she trudges into the kitchen, not surprised to find Miriam slumped against the counter, blender hugged close to her chest. Oh, she's tried a few times over the years to get clean, but it always ends the same way. Losing the house when Big Bob's Beepers came close to filing bankruptcy hadn't helped. There are grocery bags of food items all over the place and Helga scrubs at her face, aware that her mother will be no help, and Big Bob doesn't listen to her on a good day, the TV already blaring as he prepares for his annual day of nothing but football.

"There's no way," she mumbles, hands curling into fists at her side... just for her to jump almost through the ceiling when her phone rings sharply, startling Miriam out of her doze for a brief moment before she collapses back onto the wood. Helga rolls her eyes and goes back to her room as soon as she sees the name flashing on her screen. "What's up, Arnoldo?"

Her _boyfriend-_ a term that still makes Helga's heart skip a beat, even after all of these years- sounds terribly cheerful as he greets her. "Hey, Helga, Happy Thanksgiving!"

Seventeen years old and so much of that nine year old that she'd loved so deeply still held deep within him. She sighs dreamily before forcing herself out of her affectionate thoughts enough to answer. "Back at you, football head," she says with a small, goofy smile. Remembering all of the unmade food waiting for her in the kitchen, she panics a little, gnaws at her lip. "I'd love to talk, Arnold, but I really have to go do all of these... delightful Thanksgiving activities with my loving family, you know. I'll talk to you later. Bye!" she says in a rush, hanging up and immediately banging her head against the nearest wall. "You, Helga, are still an idiot," she informs her reflection as she catches sight of herself in the mirror. "He's been your boyfriend for _years_ , you don't think he saw straight through that?"

Hating herself and the roiling thoughts full of doubt and fear building up inside of her, she returns to the list of Thanksgiving food, nudging Miriam out of the way so she could try to replicate at least some of the magic Olga's been making at these holidays for the last ten years. It's all so daunting, she thinks. She'd only been given minor chores here and there, Olga content to do most of it herself, but now... Bob's lost in his football utopia, Miriam is useless, Olga is trapped at some airport, and Helga... Helga has no idea where to begin.

She starts to feel like the room is spinning, each breath coming harder than the one before it, and then arms are wrapped around her, a familiar voice whispering to her as she turns instinctively into the touch, breathing in his smell. "Arnold," she wheezes, clinging to him, and he strokes her hair. "Wha- what are you doing here?"

"You didn't sound great on the phone, so I thought I'd come over. I'm glad I did. Hey, it's gonna be ok," he says, easing her over to sit down in a chair by the kitchen table. "Helga, breathe in time with me, ok?" She tries to mimic as he breathes in deeply and exhales slowly, she really does, but her head is spinning, and her eyes are wide, drowning him in fearful blue. The second time it clicks a bit, and he smiles in relief as she shudders and takes a more normal breath, the one after that as steady as his own. "There you go." He leans closer to her and wraps an arm around her. "What happened?"

She coughs. Rubs her neck anxiously, looks away from him. "Olga's flight is delayed," she explains wearily. "She wants me to make the Thanksgiving meal, and... I mean, Bob's no help, as always, and Miriam's passed out, and... I don't know what to do."

Arnold sits with her for a couple minutes, still rubbing her back. He'd only had a couple of traditional Thanksgivings himself, his grandma alternating between thinking it 4th of July and- bizarrely enough- Easter every other year since. Even so, he looks excited when he peers back at the food stacked up on the counter. "You know what? I'll help you. We'll figure it out."

She gapes at him. "What?! No, no, Arnold, I can't ask you to do that. You have Thanksgiving with your parents, and the boarding house residents, and-"

He cups her face gently, smiling at her with softly hooded eyes. "They can take care of themselves for one Thanksgiving. Someone else needs me more right now." She closes her eyes and reaches up, lacing her fingers around his wrists. "Alright?"

"I guess," she sighs, leaning into him. "You're too good to me, Football Head."

He laughs at the old nickname and shakes his head. "No, I'm just doing what anyone who loves you would, Helga."

She still looks startled whenever he says it, growing better about showing affections over the years, letting him hold her hand, hug her, and sometimes even kiss her in public. The first time he'd been able to kiss her in front of their classmates without her slapping him or yelling at him- during junior high graduation- had been a huge success for him, the memory of it still leaving him grinning in a goofy way even after all of this time.

Not for the first time, his pleasure is tempered when she still looks a little lost, so unused to hearing those words from anyone. "Right," she laughs awkwardly, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair in a nervous tic that's stuck with her since they were children. "Let's get started then."

He wants to say so many things but he lets it go for now, following her over to the counter and guiding her as best as he can through preparing the turkey- mashed potatoes- sweet potato casserole- green bean casserole- stuffing- pies, so very many pies to try to keep Big Bob from moaning at the "sparce table". It's messy, she thinks, flour all over just from mixing together the gravy, but he looks so happy, working alongside her, that she can barely stand it, the fluttering feeling in her chest almost making her feel worse than the panic attack earlier had. She tries to distract herself by reaching out and brushing flour over his nose, but just touching him, and the surprised laugh he lets loose with in response, leaves her trembling even worse, her eyes locked on him. He smiles, flour staining his nose down to his lips. "Are you alright?" he asks her, her mind wandering as she stares at his lips.

"Oh yeah, Arnold, never better," she breathes out, forcing herself to turn back to the food. A lot of things happen at once- Bob starts yelling that it's half-time, so they need to eat _now_ , and Olga breezes in, shrugging her coat off and throwing a wink to the taxi driver outside, who sits for a few extra moments before getting honked at by people on the street behind him, quickly pulling out and going on his way with some regret.

"Nice of you to show up," Helga mumbles, unsurprised when Olga doesn't hear this, throwing her arms around her little sister and hugging her tightly.

"Ohmygosh, look at how you've grown! My baby sister is all grown up," she cries out, although she's seen Helga just a few weeks earlier when she'd come to see the new Pataki house. "Maybe we can share clothes and stay up late telling stories, and oh-"

"Kill me now," Helga mumbles, shrugging out of her stifling hug. She looks a little sheepish when she catches Arnold looking at her but he just smiles slightly, looking up as Big Bob joins them, Miriam once more coming to when he starts yelling.

"Where's my dinner?!"

"Right here, dad, doi," Helga sighs, watching his eyes widen as he starts to drool at the spread.

He turns to his oldest daughter and beams. "It all looks incredible, Olga!"

"Ye- yeah, it does," Miriam offers, adjusting her glasses and peering blurrily at it all.

Helga closes her eyes and grits her teeth, pain visible on what of her face Arnold can see, his smile immediately disappearing. "Excuse me, Mr. Pataki," he says, still trying to be polite to his girlfriend's father, no matter how awful he finds him to be. "Olga had nothing to do with this meal, it was all Helga's doing."

Helga turns sharply and gapes at him as he waits for Big Bob to respond, unable to articulate all of the feelings she has about his actions in this moment. It's more vague and distracted this time, but Bob still looks over everything and then appraises Helga. "It looks good, girl," he says before turning to lay into it, his actions doing more to prove just how good it is when the others barely get servings in time before he barrels through the entire meal in his haste to get back in front of the TV and ignore them all for the rest of the day.

Helga and Arnold step back once they have their plates full of food, Helga smiling shyly at Arnold. "I guess... we make a pretty good team, Arnoldo."

"Always have," Arnold murmurs, reaching out and squeezing her hand gently. She searches his face and exhales, leaning towards him. He grins, teeth flashing, as he meets her half-way, kissing her gently, so similar to when they were children and it was their first real, mutual kiss in San Lorenzo.

Helga almost expects to get yelled at by Bob, but he's so distracted with devouring a turkey leg that he doesn't even notice anything going on around him. She gives herself a few moments to enjoy Arnold's lips on hers before lightly pushing him away, jerking her head towards the table. "C'mon, let's eat." She looks a little guilty as they walk back to the others, taking their seats, but he grips her hand under the table and smiles at her when she glances over at him, her worries immediately easing before she turns her focus onto the food on her plate.

Bob is loud and Miriam is barely with it, Olga excitedly talking about all of her achievements in Alaska, but for once Helga finds it easier to tolerate with Arnold next to her, telling her about what was going on at the boarding house before he'd left. "...It looked like Grandma was preparing for Valentines' Day," he finishes up with a sheepish kind of smile, shrugging.

Helga hangs on his every word, so glad he's here. "I wish I could experience that," she says wistfully and he casts a quick glance around the table before touching her arm, causing her to swoon as pleasant tingling sensations ease along her nerves from the spot.

"You should come over for Christmas. How does that sound?"

"Heavenly," she sighs, leaning into his touch before catching herself and casting a quick look over to find that no one was paying them any mind. She breathes a little easier before turning back to stare dreamily into Arnold's warm green eyes.

"Then that's the plan," he says. "I'll tell my parents to put out an extra place at the table for Christmas."

She feels like she's floating for the rest of the meal, focused on the invite to spend Christmas with Arnold. Once the meal is done, Bob disappears back into the living room and Miriam drifts, trying to help clear the leftovers away just to fall asleep once more, her glasses pressed awkwardly into her face. Arnold moves to try to make her more comfortable but Helga catches his hand, shaking her head. "You don't want to do that," she warns him calmly before resuming cleaning up around Miriam.

Arnold is struck, yet again, by how sad it is that both daughters are so used to Miriam being like this that they can so easily clean around her, without her stirring once. He's learned a lot about what makes Helga tick over the last few years and it explains so much, makes him feel so bad for her. Once the table is spotless, he takes her hand again and guides her towards the hallway. "Come on," he says quietly. "I don't know about you but I could go for a nap."

She blinks, thrown as he leads her down to her bedroom. _Napping with... with Arnold?_ She bites her lip to keep herself from having a completely embarassing reaction, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to see if anyone's paying attention. She immediately tenses up when she realizes Olga is watching them, a surprised look on her face before she realizes Helga has noticed her. Then her face smooths out and she smiles softly at her baby sister, winking before going into the living room. "Daddy! Would you like me to play the piano for you?"

It's a good distraction while he waits for the game to resume. Helga gapes as she realizes she owes her sister one. "Doi," she mumbles, but it's worth it as she and Arnold lay side by side in her bed, his breathing warm and steady next to her. Her fingers search his out and interlace with them softly, her skin tingling as he squeezes her hand gently. If she had known, at 9 years old, that things would end up like this, she would've been the one passed out behind the couch for a good few years. She turns her head and watches Arnold doze, his face calm, beautiful in the shadows of her room. She wants to reach out and stroke his face but she's loathe to disrupt his rest, so she just holds his hand a little tighter and searches his features. "I love you too, Arnoldo," she says softly, watching him for some sign he'd heard her.

His smile grows, she thinks, his fingers tightening against hers. She closes her eyes and makes a contented noise deep in her throat before rolling over onto her side and curling up close to him, their fingers easing apart but finding each other once more as she rests her hand on his chest, fast asleep within moments.


End file.
